The Devil's Advocate
by Living Dead Girl 07
Summary: A deal with the devil cannot be ignored, and sometimes, temptation is too good to resist.
1. Chapter 1

This story contains explicit sexual content and should not be read by anyone under the age of 18. Parental discretion is advised.

CRACK!

The whip snapped across his skin again, simultaniously carving yet another mark into his back and making him, if possible, even more erect. He was thankful his mistress had placed the firm, rubber rings around the base of his cock and the top of his balls. She became so angry if he ejaculated before being told, and he wished only to please his mistress. _It was not always so,_ a small part of his mind whispered, but he pushed the thought away as if swatting at a particularly annoying fly, and focused only on the feeling of the whip carressing his skin.

CRACK!

He moaned, squirming in his restraints. They were a particularly ingenious set. Four long chains on a pulley system around the room allowed his mistress to tighten, relax, and move them anywhere she wanted. This gave her complete control over where and how his body was placed. He felt his mistress's hands caress his back, muttering the words that would heal the wounds. She pressed herself into his back.

"Did you enjoy youself, Pet?" she whispered, her cool breath playing across his sensitive skin.

"Yes, Mistress. Very much so." He felt her mouth pull into a smirk.

"Good." She snaked her hand around to his front and pumped his cock once. Twice. On and on, harder and faster, until no thought existed in his head other than cumming. Right. Fucking. Now! When, suddenly, it stopped. He whimpered, trying to thrust into the air. Anything for that delicious friction again.

His mistress stood in front of him, kissing him hard, rubbing herself up against him. He felt her wet heat pressed up on his cock as she ground her bare hips onto his, and he desperately tried to manuvere himself into her. Breaking it off, she walked to the doorway. She paused, watching as he still writhed in his bounds. He was exactly as she wanted him. Hard, panting, and literally begging her for more. A flitting thought of sending in another of her pets in to allow him to finish passed through her mind, but she dismissed it. After all, he was so utterly delictable in the mornings after a night of aching hardness. So very eager to please. So willing to do anything he was told. He was hers, completely and totally, and she loved it.

"Goodnight," she laughed, and left.

A/N: I would just like to take this opportunity to say that this is NOT a love story. It has romantic and sexual themes, hence the catagory. There is no lovey-dovey-ness or fluff. There is no happy ending. You were warned.


	2. Chapter 2

In the days of Job, Lucifer attempted to sway the holy away from God by means of force and destruction. They, in turn, clung tighter to faith. Lucifer, seeing the failings of his designs, fled to the depths of hell. There, he furthered his machinations, and waited.

* * *

In the dimly lit meeting hall, five figures clad in black robes gathered together in a tradition stretching back to the founding fathers of the small New-England township. One of the figures stepped forward, raised both arms in the air, and began to speak.

"My brethren! Rejoice in this day! For Brother Mason has informed me that his wife is with child. Brother Mason, please step forward. The contract awaits your hand." He gestured towards a small wooden table standing underneath the pulpit. On it lay a sheet of parchment, quill, and ink.

Another of the robe-clad man stepped slowly forward. Upon reaching the table, he picked up the quill and dipped it in the ink. The man in black began to speak again.

"Today, we honor the holy pact forged by our ancestors! Today, we secure the places of our children in the Kingdom Above! Today, my brethren, today, we rejoice!"

Brother Mason raised the quill above the parchment. He hesitated but a moment before, with a shaking hand, he signed his name at the bottom. As soon as he had finished, the parchment lifted itself off of the table, rolled and bound itself, and vanished with a sound like thunder.

"Praise be!" cried the other members, arms uplifted.

"Praise be," came the murmured reply from Brother Mason.

One by one, the other four figures filed out of the hall. Brother Mason slowly ran his hand along the surface of the table. He took a deep breath, and walked to the door exiting the hall. He paused in the doorway.

"Would that our fathers had never had made this pact."

With another deep breath, he left.

* * *

In the deepest levels of hell, there lies a workshop, of sorts. In this unholy place, Lucifer gives creation to all things evil and foul. Here, it was, that he fled. Here, he stayed, thinking up all manner of horrible creations to torment the men who dared refuse him. Here, he created the downfall of man, and laughed.

* * *

Eighteen years later…

Edward Mason did not consider himself a particularly special individual. He did not see any specific reason about him that would cause others to regard him as special. Yet, all his life, it seemed, the other residents of Queensville had always looked at him, spoke to him and of him with the same odd mixture of admiration and pity. Pity for what, he couldn't imagine. He had never suffered any real hardship, not that anything of that sort took place in their quiet town. It seemed odd, when he thought of it, that so much suffering and disaster could happen outside of the confines of the town, yet nothing horrible ever seemed to take place in Queensville. Its population was small, less than 400 people. Crime was nonexistent, as was poverty. Whenever he would ask questions about the distinct lack of negativities in the town, his parents would reply that such was the benefit of living a clean and goodly life. Other places were not so fortunate, they said, as to have the helpful and guiding influence of the town Elders. At the time, Edward accepted this answer. That was before. Before the flaws of the townspeople were flayed open and displayed before him.

For the moment, Edward was thinking of the upcoming Saturday, his eighteenth birthday. Or rather, the behavior of his parents', almost all the townspeople, for that matter, in regards to his eighteenth birthday. Most of the adults in town seemed…nervous. Like they were waiting for something. His parents, well his parents had an almost mournful air about them. His father had turned stoic, and his mother kept looking at him with those sad eyes. Great One Above if he could figure out why. He supposed it may have something to do with his ascending into adulthood, but a little, niggling voice in the back of his head told him that, no, that wasn't it. That wasn't it at all.

The days rolled by, until, on Friday evening, his father called him into the study.

"Son, I've put this off…long enough. Almost too long. Son, my dearest son, there are… things… about this town that you have no knowledge of. Great things. Terrible things. Things of which we must now speak."


	3. Chapter 3

"Centuries ago, there were five families set upon by blight and plague. One day, two figures appeared in the village square. Each of them promised respite from the ills stalking the town. One, they said, urged them to stray not from their path from the Holy One. Told them that their faith would be rewarded in time. The other, a beautiful woman of terrible countenance, told them that Lucifer was prepared to offer them a deal. That, if the villagers would offer up a sacrifice to him once a generation, he would stop the famines and fires. He would stop the sickness and poverty. Not only that, she said, but Lucifer would never tempt any of them, of any generation, away from the Holy One, thus guaranteeing their seat in the Kingdom Above. All that was required was a small sacrifice. Inconsequential, really. The villagers happily agreed. They didn't know. They didn't know what would be asked of them…" Edward's father trailed off for a moment, staring into the distance.

"As you can probably imagine, the villagers readily accepted Lucifer's offer. Almost overnight, it seemed, the crops flourished, trade increased, and the village prospered. Still, though, they had not been asked for their sacrifice.

"One day, many years later, the beautiful woman once again appeared. She came to the meeting hall, where the Elders, the leaders of the five families, had convened to discuss the affairs of the town. By this time, the Elders were getting on in years, their own sons almost grown men. She appeared with the contract between Lucifer and the villagers in hand, here to collect her master's due.

"Can you guess what it was, my son?" Edward, so enraptured with the story was he, took a moment before shaking his head in the negative. His father's face grew pained, so distraught at having to say the words himself. Edward felt the first cold trickle of fear run down his spine. His father sat down heavily and put his head in his hands before continuing. He could not face his son in this. He had thought, before Edward was born, that he and Elizabeth would never have children. They had married young, but Elizabeth, it had seemed at the time, was destined for barrenness-and they had rejoiced. They had rejoiced that they would never have to face this moment, with his son's innocent eyes looking at him with such trust, as his doom was spread out before him. But then, in her early forties, Elizabeth had conceived. He remembered that night, before he had left for the meeting, how they had wept together. He knew what would be asked of him, what he must do. He pushed on.

"A sacrifice was needed, she said, to fulfill their end of the bargain. After all, had not her master given them everything he had promised? Everything, and so much more? Yes, he had. The village was more prosperous than ever. No sickness nor blight had touched them since the bargain was made. Therefore, it was time for Lucifer to collect what was his. The bargain was made, and could not be undone. Even afterwards, when our ancestors made the journey across the ocean and settled here, they could not outrun it, however foolishly they had hoped. Once a generation, she said, a sacrifice must be made. The five families would cycle, one of them per generation, this duty. If they refused, they would, all of them, be damned for eternity. Each generation would suffer the same fate until the end of days. What else could they do but comply?"

His father grew silent again, for such a length of time that it seemed he would not continue. Edward was forced to ask the dreaded question that would make his father finish his tale.

"What was the sacrifice, father?" His father looked at him with bloodshot eyes.

"My son, oh, my son. It was the worst kind. The most vile kind. Each family… had to give the eldest child,upon its entrance into adulthood… into an eternity of servitude with this—this vile, corrupted… thing parading itself about as a woman! My son, I had hoped, I have prayed, but to no avail. A deal with the devil cannot be undone. On the morrow, the sacrifice must take place." He saw that Edward still did not fully understand what was taking place, and his grief turned to anger.

"Do you not see? Can you not understand? Tomorrow, you become a man! Tomorrow, the sacrifice must take place! Edward, _you_ are the sacrifice!" Upon speaking the words, the father broke. He wept openly and without shame. Edward sat, frozen in place. It could not be. It simply could not be. The tale was—was simply too absurd to be real. He could not believe, no he _would_ not believe such nonsense. But, his father had never, in his recollection, wept. The tears were real enough. This couldn't be happening.

His father, momentarily stemming the flow of his tears, spoke in a shaking voice. His father's voice never shook.

"At dawn, tomorrow, the church Elders will escort you to the meeting hall."

Coming out of his daze, Edward replied, "And if I refuse? What if I simply won't go?" He stood, as though to run.

"The necessary measures will be taken to prevent it. If you do not cooperate, you will be sedated. The house, the whole town, will be watching for you, so that you can't run. Please, do not make this any harder than it is." His mother had appeared behind him, and replied to his question. She held a syringe in her hand. When it looked as though he may still try for his escape, she swiftly plunged the needle in his thigh.

"Shh, my son," she said, guiding him to the floor. "It'll all be over soon."

His vision went black, and he knew no more for some time.

When he did finally awake, he was naked, chained, and adorned with a heavy, metal collar.


End file.
